


Of Runes and Fiendfyre

by RosemaryRabbit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Continuing to Explore Harry Dealing with PTSD, Fix-It, Harry Potter Has PTSD, Harry's just desperate and determined, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Not Super-Powered Harry, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Study of Ancient Runes (Harry Potter), Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Voldemort won
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28051809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosemaryRabbit/pseuds/RosemaryRabbit
Summary: The war against Voldemort went downhill right from the start.  By sixth year Dumbedore was dead, Harry was on the run, and Hogwarts was falling.  Facing insurmountable darkness, Harry uses an ancient ritual to go back in time.  He's not where where he'll end up, or even if it will succeed, but there appear to be no other options.Now it's up to Harry to find the horcruxes, figure out what the 7th horcrux is, make up for a missed year of school, pass his NEWTs, and destroy Voldemort.  The memories of his past haunt him and his web of lies separate him from his peers.  Alone and quickly running out of time, Harry must scramble to change the past before it is once again too late.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 99





	1. An Act of Desperation

It was just before dawn, the first light of the morning turning the sky a pale grey.A brisk autumn breeze swept through the abandoned apartment.Harry tugged his sleeves over his hands but otherwise did not appear to mind the cold.He was sitting in the center of an empty room, staring at an open book lying on the ground before him.It was written in runes; the yellowed parchment was darkened at the edge and a few of the first pages had come loose from their bindings.The top left corner of the back cover had been badly damaged, but the book was otherwise well kept.Archival spells for preservation and protection had served the book well.Harry thought that, of the two of them, the book had made it through their trials more intact than he had.He reached down and set a finger gently on edge of the page.

Harry was running out of time.In the back of his mind he could sense the minutes sliding by as the sky lit with the first grey light of morning. A car started outside, coughing to life in the darkness.The muggles around him would soon awaken.

Harry knew the ministry was not far behind him.Voldemort’s aurors would find him soon.Whether he had an hour left or a few days, he wasn’t sure.He knew Voldemort would have set wards throughout Hogwarts incase Harry ever returned to the rubble.But he had needed to collect the hair from the pincer of an Acromantula, and if Harry was honest with himself, he had needed to say goodbye.But now the might of the ministry was after him.He needed to move.There was nothing to stay for.

He looked back at the book.Hermione had come across it mere weeks ago.He folded the edges of his sleeves back, freeing his hands and baring his wrists.The end of a thick pink scar became visible on Harry’s arm.He picked up the book, and paused.He stood, his legs tingling at the change of positions, and walked into the kitchen.He set the kettle on and opened the cupboard.It was empty, spare for a few mismatched dishes and the box of green tea he’d put there.Harry set out tea and took down a teacup.He opened the box of loose leaf, but did not use any.Hopefully the open tea would prevent the Death Eaters from viewing the kettle with any suspicion.Closing the cupboard Harry turned to watch the water heat on the stove.It was just about ready. 

Harry reached for Hermione’s small beaded bag at his waist.It was a lot lighter now – he had lost much in the last few months.He reached inside, feeling past the bundle of clothes, pile of books, and two trunks he didn’t want to think about.“Ritual tea leaves,” he whispered.A small sachet flew into his hand.Harry withdrew the small bundle and closed the beaded bag tightly.He held the small green sachet gently in the palm of his hand.The kettle began to whistle. 

Harry poured himself a cup of steaming water, contemplated the sachet once more.There were no options left.He would either die from this, or from the Death Eaters – at least this offered a slim chance of hope.

He poured the entire sachet into the cup.It looked like any other selection of tea: dried leaves, twigs, flowers, and roots with three small bones and one strand of hair somewhere in the mix. A gentle aroma of earth and damp forest rose with the steam as Harry returned to sit beside the book.He had imagined the ritual would be more dramatic.Harry breathed deeply, relaxing into the scent of the tea, and sat cross-legged on the floor.He set the book in his lap: it was time.

He touched the beaded bag at his hip and checked his wand was firmly holstered on his forearm.He glanced around the apartment littered with broken furnishings and a few decaying drapes.There was no sign of the month he had spent there.The sun was showing behind the horizon; the chilly January morning was ready to begin.The world felt surreal in its tranquility.Harry held the teacup in both hands, and took another steadying breath.He knew the poem by heart, but read the runes all the same.A familiar stirring rose in his chest as he began the incantation, “Ég kalla á öfl lífsins…” 

The tea began to heat.Harry wished he had thought to wear gloves. “Heyrið mig, tré níu heima …” The tea’s steam was thickening.The musky scent of forest and fur filled Harry’s nose as thin steam turned into opaque white smoke.“Í þetta sinn er rangt.”

It did not take long until Harry could no longer see the book through the smoke.He clenched the teacup in his hands as the heat began to reach unbearable heights.Smoke hovered around his face and settled around his shoulders.The cup was blistering his fingers.Determinedly he continued the incantation from memory.He felt the apartment wards being tested.The smoke had surrounded him in a thick, moist cocoon.It was hard to breathe.Harry kept speaking.The pain in his hands felt like the cruciatus curse.It seared all the way to the bone.Tears were rolling down his face, but he did not let go.The wards around his apartment were falling.He could sense the Death Eaters outside.He refused to stop, he choked the words out – “Ég fórna mér,” Harry reached the final lines. “Fyrir alla þá sem ég gat ekki bjargað.”He could not see, he could not hear.He lifted the blistering tea to his lips and poured it into his mouth. 

He could not swallow it all.Boiling liquid trickled down his mouth through lips that kept trying to dispel it but he forced his head back until, choking and sputtering he felt some of the tea burn in his throat.He gulped further.He had to ingest it!The ritual must be complete – 

The world had disappeared into whiteness and Harry wasn’t sure if it was the fog or something else.Pain was radiating outward from his hands and mouth, filling him with a blistering heat until his mind held nothing but that final line: “Fyrir alla þá sem ég gat ekki bjargað.” 

_For all those I could not save_.

The pain swelled until nothing existed but the pain.Swelled until he was pain.Swelled until even the pain itself ceased to be…

And for a time, there was Nothingness.

He floated in the emptiness for a time - perhaps seconds, perhaps years.And then, slowly, pain returned.Harry realized he must be burning; his entire body aflame, floating in the nothingness.He did not know how long he stayed that way.

It took a long time for the Nothingness to recede.Eventually, Harry realized he was not floating.He was lying down.Harry stayed that way for a while, concentrating on the feeling of something firm beneath his body.Then he opened his eyes.

Leaves.Harry stared up at green leaves inches from his face.He watched them rise and fall, bobbing in the air like a boat in a gentle lake.Harry contemplated moving, but could not find his arms.He wondered if he had arms. He wondered if he might only have pain.Harry watched the leaves above his face.Eventually, he noticed the fast and harsh sound of his breathing and began to slow it down.He tried to concentrate on the leaves and his breathing and anything but the white, blinding pain that filled his body. 

Lying still, Harry let his senses come back to him.He could hear wind in leaves, the occasional rustle of bushes and some birds in the trees.He could hear a low sound a ways a way and eventually realized he was listening to cars.Then he heard a child laugh.Slowly, gently, Harry pushed himself into a sitting position.He was beneath a large rhododendron bush.Visible through the leaves was a wooden play structure.A child slid down a slide and two more ran around the bark chip covered playground.A woman sat on a bench nearby, and an older man walked a dog along the sidewalk.Harry looked down at himself.

He appeared to be intact.Despite the continual thrum of pain throughout his body, he did not appear to have lost or splinched any part of himself. He noticed the teacup was still in his hand.He tried to set it down, only to realize he couldn’t open his hand.With a detached sort of numbness only possible by his shock and pain, Harry looked at the teacup seemingly fused to his hand, reached over with his other white-and-black hand, and pulled.

The skin of Harry’s palm tore off. 

Harry stared for a moment, before robotically reaching for the beaded purse.It was still on his hip.He fumbled with the ties, before pulling it open.“ _Dittany_ ,” he rasped.His throat ached at the effort, but a small vial of dittany rose to meet his hand.Pulling out the stopper with his teeth, Harry shakily tipped a few drops out onto his mangled hand.He waited for the puff of green smoke to clear, before sprinkling a few drops upon the burns on his other hand.Then, he put the vial to his lips and drank the rest.He sighed at the immediate relief, green smoke curling out on his breath. He watched the leathery white burns of his hand fade to pink and new skin spread quickly across his bleeding palm.Aches he hadn’t yet noticed on his throat and face healed too, until only a deep pink marked the skin as recently healed.

Stiffly, Harry rose to his knees.He dropped the empty vial and teacup into the bag and settled it on his hip.He would need to get more dittany as soon as possible – it was an herb he had come to rely upon greatly during the war.But first…

Carefully, Harry peered out from behind the bushes.He was in a muggle park of some sorts.A small cluster of children played a ways away.The rhododendron bush he knelt in was nestled in the V of two paths.Quietly, he stepped onto the path leading furthest from the families.Brushing the dirt off his clothes, Harry tucked the bag beneath his worn leather jacket and touched the wand hidden up his sleeve.At a brisk pace, Harry walked out of the park.The ritual had worked – by whatever miracle, the ritual had left him alive and set him somewhere new.But where and _when_ he was? 

Exiting the park, Harry found himself in a muggle city.A bus was pulling up to the curb.A half dozen muggles stepped forward to board it, dropping change into a receptacle by the driver.Harry watched an older man rise slowly and join the queue.A newspaper was folded neatly on the bench behind him.Harry picked up his pace.As the bus pulled away from the curb, he leaned down to grasp the muggle paper, eyes scanning for the date.

August 18 th , 1977. 

Harry took a deep breath, staring at the newspaper shaking in his hands.He hadn’t even been born yet.He had not anticipated arriving so far back – but then again, he hadn’t fully believed he would survive the ritual in the first place.Setting the newspaper back, Harry walked turned sharply and headed down the street. He moved with a falsely purposeful step, habitually falling into routines intended to shield him from unwanted attention.

He hadn’t been born yet.Which meant… his parents were still alive. It was late in the First War, and Voldemort was quickly securing power.Yet, it would be another three years until Voldemort’s fateful Halloween attack in Godric’s Hollow.There was no promise that the horcruxes were where they’d last found them.And, there remained the matter of discovering the seventh horcrux – they had found only six before…Harry shook his head sharply.It would not do well to dwell. He had another chance; he would not let Voldemort win again.

But first… a muggle in a suit bumped into him, rushing to cross the street.The sidewalks were growing more and more crowded.It appeared that the afternoon rush hour was upon him.Rubbing his forehead, Harry scowled.He needed to go somewhere private, and secure.The crowds made his hands twitch for his wand; anyone could be hiding amongst the crowd.

Ducking into the nearest alleyway, Harry stepped behind a rubbish bin. Turning on his heel, he disappeared with a faint ‘pop.’


	2. Of Owls, Castles, and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry receives a ministry letter and contacts Hogwarts.

**Chapter One**

_To Whom It Concerns:_

_It has come to our attention that your home is resident to a wizard of schooling age for whom there is no registered mentor or school.British Wizarding Law dictates that all magical persons age 17 and under must be enrolled at a magical school, registered as a pupil under an accredited magical instructor, or formally granted exemption by the Office of Magical Educational Affairs.This must be rectified before the traditional academic year commences: September 1_ _ st _ _, 1977.If you require assistance in meeting the September deadline, please send notice via owl._

_Sincerely,_

_Lotharie Hornbey  
Senior Secretary  
Office of Magical Educational Affairs_

_Department of Magical Youth Services_

_Ministry of Magic_

Harry slowly set the letter down on the table beside him.Frowning, he poured himself a second cup of tea.The ministry had noticed him.

Harry had not anticipated Ministry involvement.After all, he, Ron, and Hermione had left school early after their fifth year following the fall of the ministry and Dumbledore’s sudden death.Harry wondered if their lack of notification was due to being Undesirable #1, or if the law had been repealed at some time in the future.Regardless… he ran a hand through his hair in agitation.This would only hinder his plans.

The letter was addressed quite vaguely – clearly the wards he set up around his campsite had made it difficult for them to get a fix on who (or even how many people) he was.That would play to his advantage, and give him more options regarding how to approach this.As Harry skimmed the letter for a seventh time, the large barn owl gave an impatient hoot.

“Sorry there,” Harry murmured, looking up from the parchment. “This will take me a while… how about I find you some water?You have had a pretty long flight.”

Reaching into the beaded bag for a small bowl, Harry tapped it twice and offered the cool water to the messenger.He should probably find it something to eat too, but he was running rather low on food himself, and his snares had not caught much game yet.Searching the bag for a piece of jerky, Harry weighed his options.

With the ministry unable to determine how many magical persons were with him, he could attempt to register with a magical instructor.Perhaps with polyjuice, Harry could appear as the instructor and sign any necessary documents.However… being that he was only one person it ran the risk of appearing suspicious to show up as an instructor with no pupil in sight.He could take a gamble and apply for an official exemption, however, he wasn’t sure what qualified as an exception – and the mere act of requesting the law be waived for him would garner a great deal of unwanted attention.He could inquire about attending Hogwarts and create a story about why he did not attend it earlier, or he could avoid the letter entirely and deal with whatever consequences arose.

Harry sighed, finally pulling a strip of jerky from the bag and offering it to the impatient owl. He had already faced being Undesirable #1, hunted by the full might of both the Ministry and dark forces.He had no real desire to be a fugitive again, but he knew he could do it.And the freedom of movement he would be allowed outside of school would be a great benefit to the horcrux hunt.

However… Harry had already retrieved the ring from the Gaunt house.It was carefully secured inside the beaded bag.The rest of the horcruxes presented more of a challenge.He did not know if the cup or diary would be with their future owners yet, and he had not discovered a way to counter the locket’s poison.He would need the time and resources to research and experiment beforehand – resources that Hogwarts could offer.The only other two horcruxes he knew of were the snake (undoubtedly safe at Voldemort’s side) and the diadem, which was… at Hogwarts.

Harry smiled wistfully. Hogwarts was still standing in this time.The castle was his first, and only, true home.Harry could not deny the painful longing in his chest that arose at a second realization: his _parents_ would be at Hogwarts too.

With a shaky breath, Harry picked up his quill and set a blank piece of parchment before him. 

_Headmaster Dumbledore,_

He paused, searching for the best way to craft the necessary mixture of truth and lies. _I have recently received a notice from the Office of Magical Education regarding my need to continue my schooling._ He paused.What would be believable, and yet close to the truth?Perhaps he could get away with a vague note here, and explain more thoroughly in person, after he had time to think it through. _While my schooling has been interrupted this year, I have completed most required Hogwarts content up to a sixth year level.If possible, I would like to speak with you or a member of your staff to learn more about what options I may have to resume my studies at your school._

_Sincerely,  
_ Harry paused.He needed a new last name, and a new middle name to be safe.For years, his name was the only thing tying him to his parents, but here that connection was far too dangerous.The consequences if anyone were to determine he came from the future… Harry shuddered.He had come to ensure the future was never so bleak again – no matter what.He needed a name that would raise no suspicion, which had no ties to who he was or what he had left.

With another deep breath, he signed his name with a flourish.  
 _Harry A. Eades_

Folding the parchment, he addressed it briefly to Hogwarts.“When you’re ready,” he told the owl gently.“Would you mind taking this to Hogwarts?It’s in response to the message you just delivered to me.”The barn owl blinked slowly, before regally stretching out a leg and taking the offered letter.“Thank you.”

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair.His appearance was another thing he would need to sort out, but not yet.First, he needed breakfast.

~~~~~

When the next owl found him, Harry was removing a squirrel from his snare.Carefully, Harry reset the trap before turning to the owl.This time, a screech owl sat patiently on a limb beside him, letter outstretched.Harry took it gingerly, before noticing the familiar seal upon the back.Dumbledore had responded.

Grinning, Harry thanked the owl and strode back towards his tent.“Come on in,” Harry offered to the owl.“I’m about to fix some dinner.You’re free to join me.”The owl hooted amicably as Harry levitated another log onto the small fire.He set the squirrel down upon the table before sliding his pocketknife beneath the letter’s seal.Clicking the knife shut, Harry sat down to read.

_Mr. Harry Eades,_ the letter began.

_We are proud to announce that Hogwarts has a long history of accepting transfer students years two through seven.As per tradition, you and your family/guardian(s) are invited to an interview with Headmaster Dumbledore August 28_ _ th _ _, at 10:00 a.m. at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.Please bring with you, or send by owl, any and all prior school records and Ordinary Wizarding Level exam results.If you have any further questions, please contact us by return owl._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry folded the letter once more.He had a meeting with the Headmaster tomorrow morning.A meeting with the mentor he had said a final farewell to more than a year ago.And Harry would be meeting him as a stranger, with a pack full of lies and half-truths.Harry sighed and tucked the letter into his back pocket.“Well, I will not be sending a reply,” he told the owl.“But you are still free to stay for some meat, and some water.You’ve had a big trip.”He pulled forward the small water dish he’d set out for the barn owl the day before.Refilling it, he offered it to his current guest.The screech owl drank daintily and appeared content to wait.Harry picked up the squirrel and flicked open his knife.

As he skinned the squirrel, Harry pondered the story he would tell.He would have to admit to the sporadic nature of his recent schooling.He was sure that his year on the run would reveal itself in the classroom at some point.Sooner rather than later he feared.He hadn’t written anything more formal than a letter in a year – his essay writing would certainly be rusty.And he had no OWL results to share with the Headmaster.While he could recall his scores quite clearly, the scores would not be recorded for another twenty years.He grimaced.Hopefully he would not need to take them all over again.Once was hard enough – and that was _after_ having time to study for them.

Harry finished cleaning the squirrel.Slicing off a chunk for the owl, he levitated the rest towards the fire.The real challenge, he realized as he began to slowly turn the meat above the flames, would be explaining his sudden need for a transfer.He had no records to support a story that he had attended another wizarding school and recently moved.He had no friends or family to support the story he was privately tutored.Despite the lack of supporting witnesses to private education, it seemed the only way to cover for the great lack of scholastic records.However, explaining why he had no friends or family would be a task unto itself.

Harry stared at the flames, contemplating.The owl beside him took a final drink of water, and flew away.Harry spun his wand slowly in his hands, turning the squirrel over the fire.He needed a realistic story – one that drew no extra attention to him yet covered loose ends, and hopefully discouraged additional questions or inquiry…

By the time Harry had set the squirrel on a plate, he had a knot in his stomach as heavy as a boulder.Staring at the first real meal he’d had all day, he was hard pressed to pick up his knife.Harry sighed.He needed to eat. 

Cutting the squirrel into strips, he brought them to his mouth on the tip of his knife.Mechanically, he ate.His thoughts moved to the most immediate issue: his appearance.His entire life, strangers had remarked upon his uncanny resemblance to his father.For all he had changed his name, he did not need appearances drawing suspicion.Before he met Dumbledore, he would need to alter his appearance.As he washed down dinner with a glass of water, Harry reached inside the beaded bag once more, pulling forth a small hand-held mirror.

He had not bothered with his appearance in a long while.Bright green eyes stared back from behind plain black glasses.His messy black hair had grown wilder than ever, and while it obscured his famous scar, it did nothing to make him look less like a Potter. 

The lightning bolt scar on his forehead was no longer alone.The burns on the lower half of his face and neck were still the vibrant pink color of recently healed skin.They drew the eye and would bring plenty of attention on their own.The tail end of a wide burn peeked out the collar of his shirt and wrapped around from the back of his neck.Beneath his shirt, the burn spread across his entire shoulder blade.While the scars could lessen the connection between he and James, they too needed an explanation and cover story.

Staring at the mirror, he bit his lip in thought.A glamour would change him most, but it would also be the easiest to discover or remove.Polyjuice, or other body changing potions, would take too many resources and too much brewing time to realistically use for an entire year.However, hair dye combined with a few choice spells like a permanent sticking charm or a stasis charm perhaps…Harry mulled his choices over, reaching into the bag for a handful of books.Setting the kettle on, Harry flipped through the tomes.Hermione would be proud...  
Harry smiled sadly, before shoving the thought away.She hadn’t died yet.She wasn’t even born yet.There was no one yet to miss.He turned pages quicker, dog earring likely spells and considering potential combinations.

When the kettle whistled, he poured himself a cup of peppermint tea.It seemed more and more likely that a staining jinx was all he would need to ensure the dye did not fade, and it would need to be reapplied as the hair grew. He would just need to stop by a muggle store tomorrow morning before his trip to Hogwarts.While not quite morally sound, his invisibility cloak made procuring the necessary items financially possible. Harry set the books and mirror back into the bag.The fire was slowly dying, and the sun was starting to sink below the trees.Harry listened to the evening sounds he’d become rather fond of.It had been a restful week up in the mountains, with no Death Eaters on his tail.A quick _scourgify_ cleaned the table before he shoved both table and chair into his bag.

Stepping outside the tent, Harry checked the wards once more, before stepping to the bushes to relieve himself.Returning to the tent, he rolled out the sleeping bag and lay down.It would take but minutes in the morning to clean camp and disguise the fact he had ever stopped there.He tried not to worry about what the morning would bring.Hoping for dreamless sleep, he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

Harry appeared on the path to Hogwarts exactly one quarter to ten.The sight of the castle was just about enough to knock the wind from his chest.Taking a steadying breath, he squared his shoulders, and strode towards the open gates.No battle had taken place here yet, and he stubbornly refused to let his heart tell him otherwise.

A young woman waited just inside the grounds.Her black hair hung in micro braids all the way down to her waist.Smiling, she gestured for him to join her.“Welcome!Are you Harry Eades?”At his nod, she continued warmly.“I’m Avery Sage, professor of Divination.I’m to escort you to your meeting with the Headmaster.”

As he stepped up beside her, she started down the path.Harry tried not to stare.In her jeans and simple green tank top she seemed nothing at all like he’d imagined a divination professor to be.A simple necklace hung around her neck, its white bone charm contrasting her dark skin.She wore Ansuz – the rune of Odin, breath, and wisdom.

“You arrived perfectly on time,” she told him.Something about the way she said this made Harry glance at her.She seemed almost puzzled.

“Is that… unusual?” He asked, cautiously.

Professor Sage laughed.“No, but for some reason I thought I’d read you’d be late.” 

“Read?” Harry stated blankly.

“In the cards, I mean,” she told him.“I use many different forms of divination, but tarot has always been my go-to.This morning, I got the distinct impression I’d be meeting someone at the wrong time.But… then again, divination is an imprecise science – so much is intuition...” she laughed again, this time at herself.“I should not be surprised when I am wrong.”She smiled at Harry, before looking thoughtful once again.“Yet… I am not often so thoroughly wrong in my readings.It simply… startled me.” 

Harry said nothing, and they lapsed into silence. Professor Sage couldn’t be more different from Trelawny, and her prediction was eerily accurate. 

Uneasy, Harry spent the rest of the walk trying to steer the conversation as far from divination as possible.As they neared the front doors, Harry inquired into the basics of the school.“I know Hogwarts students are divided into four houses.How does that affect class scheduling?” 

“Students take classes with others from their house, and students from one other house.The two houses that are paired together changes year to year, subject to subject.”

Harry nodded.“Roughly how large are the classes then?How many students are in each house?”

“Well, class sizes range from roughly 20 to 25 students, depending on the houses that are paired.Each house has about 10 students in each year, and so there are 70-some students in each house – give or take a few.”

As they reached the front doors, Harry had to force himself to carry on conversation.“What led to the four-house system Hogwarts uses?”

Harry did not hear anything Sage said in response, because at that moment, he stepped across the threshold.The breath caught in his throat, and it was all he could do to keep walking casually beside Professor Sage.After a moment he noticed she’d stopped talking, and was waiting for him to respond.

“It’s … a very grand castle,” he said weakly.“I can’t imagine having classes in such a historic building,” he lied.“Did you attend Hogwarts?” he asked, trying to divert her attention.

She smiled.“Oh yes!” she exclaimed.They were passing the Great Hall’s closed doors.Harry forced his eyes to fall back on Professor Sage, forced his ears to listen just to her voice. The images of the Battle hovered at the edge of his mind, threatening to overwhelm him should he give them any notice.“Hufflepuff quickly became the family I always longed for,” she was saying.He watched her hands wave as she talked.“It took a long time to find my way around though – as beautiful as the castle is, it’s also a maze – a magical one at that!”Harry put a smile on his face, and nodded along.

“I can only imagine,” he offered.

They were climbing the stairs, mere minutes from the Headmaster’s office.“When did you start studying divination?” he asked, looking for any way to keep her talking.

“Well, classes start in third year, but… I’d always had an interest in the divinatory arts, so when older years were doing homework in the common room, I often observed and asked questions.I got my first tarot deck on my twelfth birthday, and began practicing then.”

Harry smiled.He tried to think of something to respond with, but they had turned down the final corridor, and the gargoyle guarding the headmaster’s office was in sight.As the hallway lantern flickered, he almost caught a glimpse of blood on the statue.Mouth shut tight, Harry was relieved when the professor took over the conversation without further prompting.

“And this,” she explained, gesturing at the gargoyle.“Is the entrance to the Headmaster’s office. Many rooms in Hogwarts are both hidden by magical objects and protected by passwords.Today the password is _bertie botts._ ”With the quiet rumble of moving stone, the gargoyle slid aside, and Professor Sage gestured him onward.“Head up the stairs and knock. He should be expecting you.”

“Thank you,” Harry managed, offering another smile before turning and stepping onto the moving staircase.Behind him, he heard the gargoyle return to his resting place.Harry took a deep breath.He had taken these stairs so many times before… he took another deep breath.None of that had happened yet.He was Harry Eades.And Dumbledore had never met him.

Raising a closed fist, he knocked thrice upon the door.The familiar voice bid him enter before he even lowered his arm.With one last bracing breath, Harry squared his shoulders and stepped inside.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, ornate teacup in hand.His blue eyes twinkled from behind silver spectacles, and Harry felt the breath catch in his throat. “Have a seat, Mr. Eades,” Dumbledore said, gesturing towards the fluffy purple chair facing the desk. 

“Thank you, Headmaster,” he whispered, taking the offered seat.

“Would you like some tea?” the headmaster offered.Harry nodded with a small smile. 

“That would be lovely, Headmaster.”

A matching teacup appeared before Harry, and he wrapped his fingers around the warm cup gratefully.“Sugar?” 

“No thank you, sir.”

They sipped tea in companionable silence for a moment, before Dumbledore spoke again.“I received the letter regarding your interest in transferring to Hogwarts.While this is entirely possible, I must warn that transferring in fifth or seventh year is most difficult due to the emphasis on OWL and NEWT testing, which occurs in June.”

Harry nodded.Dumbledore smiled briefly, before continuing.“That being said, we have a long history of accepting qualified transfer students.Our most recent transfer arrived last year – a fourth year Ravenclaw student.Before that, three years ago a young man joined as a fifth year Hufflepuff.He graduated this past year. Should you be accepted into our school, I am sure you will find great success and great friendship here.

“That being said… as a prospective seventh year student it is imperative you have an educational background that will prepare you for success here at Hogwarts.It will be important to review your OWL scores.As we do that, perhaps you could tell me what your schooling has been like up to this point.”

Harry felt his hands grow clammy.This was the point he was most nervous about.Clearing his throat nervously, he began.“Well, sir, I … uh, do not have my OWL results, sir.”He looked down at his hands as Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose slightly.He felt heat rising to his cheeks.Clenching his hands, Harry ploughed onward. 

“My schooling has been… rather chaotic, to be honest sir.Particularly in the last two years.I was taught by my two uncles, and we moved often.I did not complete my OWL tests due to…”Harry took another breath, startled by the tears that had welled up in his eyes at the mere thought of the horrific end of his fifth year.“Well, my uncle – “ he felt his throat close up on him again and blinked hard.“He was murdered.”

Harry’s hands were clenched so tightly he wondered if he was feeling blood or sweat beneath his nails.“After that, we... did not stay in one place for long.My theoretical knowledge may be a bit weak,” he admitted, still unable to look up at the grandfatherly professor.“However, my practical knowledge is quite strong, sir.”He felt the weight of the silence as Dumbledore failed to speak.

“I – I am a hard worker,” he went on suddenly, a desperate feeling appearing in his chest.“I know I will be behind in a few areas, but I also – I know I can catch up.”Harry bowed his head, suddenly terrified of what Dumbledore would say.Now that he was in the castle, his home… the idea of being turned away was almost too painful to consider.

When Harry glanced up at Dumbledore he found the man eyeing him thoughtfully over folded fingers.After another moment’s pause, Dumbledore spoke.“I will not deny that your missing OWL scores will make a transfer much more difficult.However,” he went on as Harry looked away.“There remains your lack of a magical instructor.And, Hogwarts is not known to turn away those in need.”

Dumbledore paused again, looking thoughtful.He sipped his tea and tapped a finger gently upon the desk.“Perhaps…” Harry looked up from his cooling tea.“The professors are currently returning to the castle and preparing for the start of term.With their consent, perhaps we could arrange an alternative way to determine which level of coursework you are best prepared for in each subject.”

Harry felt his heart swell.Dumbledore must’ve seen the hope shining in his eyes, for he smiled.“Does that sound amenable?”

“Absolutely, sir!” Harry replied, nodding vigorously.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled grandly.“Now, there remains the formalities of speaking with your family and discussing the more financial side of magical education.”

Harry felt his heart plummet once more, and his smile suddenly grew strained.

“I – I am on my own, sir.”Harry fidgeted with something at his side, and Dumbledore caught sight of a strange beaded bag.“But, I have some money. How much does a year at Hogwarts cost?”

Dumbledore regarded him with pensive eyes.“The Ministry of Magic covers all tuition costs, however supplies range between 100 to 200 galleons for the average new student.

“However, I must inquire as to your living arrangements.What has led you to be without family?”

Harry gave Dumbledore a lopsided half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.“My family was... small to begin with.I was the only child.My mother died in childbirth and my father began to raise me on his own.However, he was a muggle and did not know what to do with me being magical.Quickly he handed me over to my uncles – my mother’s brothers.They’ve raised me most of my life.But… they were both killed by dark wizards.”

“I offer you my deepest condolences,” Dumbledore offered gravely.“What led dark wizards to seek your uncles?”

“My uncles were involved in research that – if successful – could’ve damaged the relationship dark wizards were hoping the create with werewolves.See, one of my uncles was a herbologist, and the other was a potioneer.They were looking for a cure to lycanthropy.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened.“I had heard rumors…” he murmured.“Were they successful?” 

“No,” Harry lied.“They were close but… they said there were a few pieces they just hadn’t figured out yet.”

“Would you, perhaps, be able to share what they had started?” Dumbledore inquired hopefully.Harry nodded, holding back a smile.Maybe, with most of the pieces available they could create the Wolfsbane potion sooner this time. 

“I can give you what remains of their notes.I know they would be relieved to have their work finished.”

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. “To help complete another’s unfinished life goal is nothing but the highest of honor.I will keep their work private.There are but two others who I believe may be of assistance, and I trust them implicitly.But, that is a discussion for a future day.

Dumbledore fixed sincere eyes upon him once more.“You have been through a great ordeal, Mr. Eades.Should you seek someone to speak with, please know my office is always open to you.”Harry nodded, a lump suddenly stuck in his throat.

“Well,” Dumbledore said, cheerfully back to business once more.“Since you are already here, I would like to save you a trip.Let us find who is in the castle at the moment. Perhaps we can get some of your testing out of the way and figure out how Hogwarts can best serve you this year.”

Harry grinned at Dumbledore, rising to take his offered hand.He shook firmly, meeting Dumbledore’s blue eyes.“I would love that, sir.”

They found five of the eight professors that he needed to speak with.Most were gathered into the staffroom easily enough with the help of a few enthusiastic house elves.Dumbledore explained the situation briefly.“Our new transfer student, Harry Eades, has had many interruptions in his last two years of schooling.As such, before he can be welcomed into school on September 1 st , we must discover which year he should be placed in.With limited records to aid our placement, I leave it up to each of you to choose how best to test his knowledge in your subject, and determine which years’ course he should take.To facilitate and expedite this, I would like to create a brief schedule for Harry’s testing.”One flick of his wand, and a roll of parchment appeared, an empty chart drawing itself across it in black ink.“Who would like to start?”

And so it was that fifteen minutes later, Harry found himself in an empty transfiguration room completing a short-answer test titled: _Sixth Year Review, May 1976_.As he worked, the desks hustled into place around him, conducted by McGonagall’s waving wand.Once they had settled into straight rows, a handful of matches became a fleet of feather dusters whisking to work in a flurry of dust.Harry bit back a cough, and narrowed his eyes.As the feather dusters became scrub brushes to battle a summer’s worth of grime, Harry cast a quiet protective charm around his desk to keep splashing water well away from his exam paper. 

Half an hour later, McGonagall swept by to collect his test.Harry took the opportunity to run a hand through his slightly dusty hair.He wondered if the dust would blend in with his newly light brown hair.She read through the exam in front of him, her lips thinning as she came to his attempts at the more difficult questions.Briskly, she handed him his quill.“Please transfigure this into a pigeon,” she requested.Harry felt determination well up in him as she fixed him with a doubtful eye.Moments later, a pigeon waddled off his desk, pecked at the ground, and then soared to roost on in the rafters.

Her eyebrow rose at the silent casting.“Retrieve it, and transform it into a vase please.”

“ _accio pigeon_ ,” he muttered.Settling the pigeon firmly on his desk, he tapped it twice with his wand and imagined the ornate glass vase Petunia had proudly displayed when the Mason’s arrived.With a quick twist, the pigeon morphed into a blue and green streaked vase, complete with a delicate spout like handle.

“A snapping turtle,” she requested.He complied.The blue of the vase remained in a streak along the turtle’s snout.Harry frowned.“Please return him to your feather quill.” 

Taking an extra moment to concentrate this time, Harry envisioned the familiar quill, and waved his wand.McGonagall nodded.“Now, please conjure a small broach.” And the tests went on from there.

In the end, the evening found Harry with a thrumming headache and the sense that at least he’d done his best.Professor Slughorn had asked him to brew a blood replenishing potion and Dreamless Sleep while participating in a verbal quiz about the properties of various ingredients and proper preparation methods.Professor Sprout had preferred a chat in the greenhouse that was less stressful but involved his identifying over a hundred plants and discussing their various needs, properties, and lore.Professor Flitwick required extensive demonstration and a single essay on the topic _Everything you know about Charms_.It was the runes teacher he had felt most nervous with.

Harry had never had any formal schooling with runes.All of his knowledge came through the research he, Ron, and Hermione had done while on the run.Self-taught, they’d had a great deal of help during the time they spent with Bill at Shell Cottage, but other than that everything was from books and intuition.Sitting before the stern looking professor, he’d hesitantly began identifying runes he was presented with, and offering up the bits and pieces he knew about their use.Some runes, like Ansuz, he knew in depth.Eihwaz and Tiw he could give detailed examples of their uses, as well as delve into their lore at length.But others, like Perthro or Isa he had done little more than identify.Finally, when the exam was over, Professor Björnsson had leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily, a frown deeply etched in his brow.“Is there anything else you can do with runes?” he had asked, doubtfully. 

“Well, I can cast wards, sir,” Harry had offered hesitantly.Taking the raised eyebrow as a request for demonstration, Harry had stood.Pushing the desk out of the way, Harry knelt to begin the runic part of his campsite ritual.Drawing runes in the four directions, he enchanted the first protective ward.Stepping one pace inside, he traced the seven runes of illusion meant to hide him from all eyes.And, while he generally used a silencing spell, he chose to use another two runic sets to silence all noise from within his circle.He watched as Professor Björnsson’s eyes widened, and he stood slowly, pacing the outside of the wards.Raising his wand, the professor cast a pale purple light over Harry and his work.A stream of runic lettering flew back to Björnsson.He read the passing letters, eyebrow’s rising further still.After a moment more of observation, he gestured to Harry to take it down.

Harry did so.When he was finished, Björnsson asked, “is there anything _else_ you can do?”

“I can lock items with runes, and use runes to hold food without spoiling.I also use runes to purify water.” Harry paused to think.“I can read runic texts, but I am a slow reader.”Harry flushed.Hermione read runes about as fast as she read English, while Harry continued to read more like a stumbling eight year old, pausing to sound out words or look up meanings.

“Do you have any such items to show me?” 

Harry reached into the beaded bag, and pulled out his canteen.A protective rune was engraved at the mouth of the bottle, cleansing all water inside.Björnsson looked at it approvingly.

“Your background and theory is shoddy,” he said bluntly.“But your use of runes is both creative and advanced.If you are willing to put in great effort with readings and research, you could excel in this class.”

Harry’s eyes had widened.He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.“Thank you sir!” he had exclaimed.“Thank you!I will not waste this opportunity.”

Now, slouching in his chair at the staff table, Harry waited for the professors to make their decisions.His placement in Defense Against the Dark Arts, of course, could not be determined until the recently-hired professor finally arrived, however enough of his professors had seen his work to determine what year he should be placed in over all.

“Very poor grasp on advanced theory,” Björnsson was saying.

“Highly creative use of charms,” Flitwick exclaimed.

“Accurate, grade-level use of conjuring and banishing,” McGonagall added.

“Demonstrated an aptitude and willingness to learn,” Sprout pointed out.

The discussion bounced back and forth as the professors weighed his clearly lacking book knowledge with what they pronounced was advanced (or “gifted,” as Flitwick said) practical skills. 

“Eades,” Björnsson said, and suddenly all eyes were on Harry.“Are you willing to work hard?Harder than your peers will have to?”

Harry blinked at the sudden question, then nodded seriously.“Definitely, sir.”

“We could assign a tutor,” Sprout added.

The professors turned to Dumbledore, who smiled.“Very well then!” he beamed.“Harry, it appears you will be joining us as a seventh year.I understand it is quite late now, but before you leave, I will prepare your supplies list and provide your train ticket.Students arrive at Hogwarts via the Hogwarts Express, a train that leaves from Kings Cross Station on September 1 st , and 11:00 sharp.It departs from Platform 9 ¾, which is accessed through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10.Any questions?”

Harry shook his head, slightly shocked by the sudden end to the professor’s debate.The professors took their leave as Dumbledore called a house elf.“Nellie, could you prepare a sandwich to see our young friend off?We’ve kept him awfully long today.”

The excited elf bowed and popped away.Dumbledore conjured a slip of paper, tapping it with his wand.“This,” he said.“is your supply list.Most everything can be found in Diagon Alley, although if you need extra time or assistance in acquiring materials, you can request items like books via owl.If you find you need financial assistance, please don’t hesitate to request one of our many scholarships to help cover supply costs.Those too can be requested by owl, or – since you will be here shortly – in person.Do you have any questions for me?”

Harry stifled a yawn and blushed.“No, sir.”

“Very well.”Nellie had appeared once more, sandwich in hand.“Nellie, could you be so kind as to escort our young friend out?”

She grinned, bowing to the Headmaster, and quickly began ushering “Mister Eades, sir,” out the door and down the hallway.Harry hurried along behind her.

Outside, he found himself trudging back up the all too familiar front path alone.The sun was setting behind the forbidden forest, and long shadows stretched across the grounds.It had been an exhausting day of tests and painfully familiar places.At the gates, he turned and took one more glance at the castle.He never thought he would get to see her whole again – unmarred by war and death.Blinking back sudden tears, Harry stepped outside the wards, and turned on his heel, disappearing with a soft _pop!_


	3. Another Year Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to Hogwarts.

** Chapter Two **

The following two days were hell on Harry. His nights were alternating hours of nightmarish sleep and exhausted attempts at staying awake. It was as if Hogwarts had shaken memories out of storage, dragging the Battle to the forefront of his subconscious mind.It was almost enough to make him reconsider attending the school.If one, busy day at the castle shook him so badly, how would he manage an entire year?

Harry did not change his mind however, and his days were spent anxiously preparing for term.On the 29 th he went to Diagon Alley to cautiously spend as little of his 300 galleons as possible. At the end of the war, Gringotts had fallen into Ministry hands and the accounts of light wizards were greatly restricted. Being Undesirable #1, Harry’s vault had been immediately drained into Ministry coffers. The money Harry now possessed was the remnants of everything he, Ron, and Hermione had carried on them at the time, and all they had stolen after. But it was precious little to start a new life on. Purchasing another second hand robe, and second hand versions of each book he didn’t yet own, Harry scrounged by using only 17 galleons. It was the trip to the apothecary that really ate at his moneybag. 32 galleons later, he was prepared for another year of potions. 

On the 30 th , Harry spent the day reading.

September 1 st found Harry exhausted. He had spent the train ride curled up in the corner of an empty compartment he had warded against unwanted notice or visitors. Despite attempts to catch last minute shut-eye, he had found the train neither restful nor pleasant. Anxious nerves had gnawed at him the entire ride, growing heavier by the hour. He had crossed the lake in stony silence, and now stood behind the first years, ready to follow Professor McGonagall into the Great Hall for a second time.

Unlike the first years, he had no fear about how the sorting would be conducted. Instead, he feared the memories the castle would hold – and the truths that the Hat would find.

Before Harry could do anything more to prepare himself, McGonagall opened the Hall doors, and they were led inside. The room was packed full of students. The hall thrummed with their chatter. Above them, the enchanted ceiling stood intact, mirroring the calm night sky outside. Harry looked up at the staff table where Dumbledore held his place at the center – a calm and welcoming presence he once thought he’d never see again. Somewhere in the crowd sat his parents. 

Harry glanced towards the Gryffindor table, situated along the wall furthest from the Slytherins. He scanned the faces for a flash of brilliant red hair – but before he could find them, the students began to quiet. He turned forward to see McGonagall setting out the three-legged stool and the ragged Sorting Hat.

A rip opened at the brim, and the Hat began to sing.

_“…. I’ve done my song, so put me on!_

_We will have a chat and then_

_I’ll sort you out, have no doubt_

_I’ll see the truth within!”_

Harry joined the school in clapping politely for the hat, but inside his mind was reeling. The Hat had virtually guaranteed it would read the truth in his mind. He had never mastered occlumency. While he had gotten better at calming his mind at times he had never managed to shield his thoughts from others. He had never heard of the Hat sharing what it saw, but he also did not know where its true allegiances lay.

“Aarons, Meg!” called McGonagall, and the sorting began. “HUFFLEPUFF!” the Hat cried. Harry watched as student after student walked up to the hat. Some sauntered. Some stumbled. Some faced the hall with a look of terror before the hat covered their eyes. Harry ignored the urge to look once more for familiar faces at the tables, and instead focused his steely eyes upon the hat. Harry was taking a great risk but at this point there was no other choice.

The first years’ sorting concluded with “Zanali, Lucas!” being sorted into “RAVENCLAW!” and every eye in the hall turned upon him.

“Look at his scars,” a student whispered nearby.

“I wonder why he’s transferring so late,” another voice asked.

McGonagall quieted the whispers as she spoke once more. “Joining us as a seventh year is our newest transfer student: Eades, Harry.”

Harry stepped forward to sit once more upon the three-legged stool. As he turned to face the school, his eyes sought familiar faces. A flash of red hair caught his eye part way down the Gryffindor table just before the Hat fell over his eyes. 

_Oh my._ The Hat’s deep voice seemed to whisper in his very thoughts. _In all my years… A second sorting?_

_Will you tell?_ Harry asked.

_These secrets are mine to keep,_ the Hat replied. _Although rarely do I find such secrets as this._

_Even from Dumbledore?_ Harry asked nervously.

_Even from Dumbledore._ The Hat assured. _Your secrets are safe with me._

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. 

_Now… where to put you? You are loyal all the way to the marrow of your bones…_ Harry tried not to be put out at the thought of joining Hufflepuff. He knew had learned to work diligently in order to learn how to survive. He was no Ravenclaw like Hermione was at times. When he had been forced to continue their research without her… he knew how to work tirelessly at a near impossible problem. He also knew this year at Hogwarts he would need to be continue that effort – not only to catch up in classes, but to continue the fight against Voldemort alone. Harry tried to quash the disappointment in his chest at the thought of wearing yellow and black. He thought back to the final lines of the ritual that brought him here. _It’s true,_ he told the Hat. _I have sacrificed everything for my friends_.

_Ah, but it was not just for your friends, was it?_ the Hat reminded. _You sacrificed your life for the entire wizarding world – more than once._ The Hat chuckled at this. _What is braver than that?_ Harry felt his heart leap. Images rose to mind – the warmth of the Gryffindor common room, the flapping of red and gold Quidditch robes, Ron and Hermione’s faces. _And,_ the Hat continued, mirth and wonder in its voice. _I believe Godric’s very own sword found you worthy once, several years ahead._ Harry flushed. _Where else could you belong but_ “GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry lifted the Hat from his head, grinning widely. Handing the Hat back to McGonagall, Harry turned towards the cheering table as the crest on his robes turned a familiar red and gold. As the cheering subsided, Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. As he walked between the tables, he realized the sheer number of armed witches and wizards seated all around him. With a brisk pace, he passed an empty seat in the middle of the table, and headed to the very last spot on the edge of the banquet table. He took his place at the end of the Gryffindor table with his back to the wall. Dumbledore rose to his feet.

“Welcome to Gryffindor,” whispered the boy across from him. Harry smiled as they turned towards the Headmaster.

“Welcome,” Dumbledore began. “To another year at Hogwarts! I know it has been a long train ride, and you are eager to dine. So, I shall not hold you! Tuck in!” At his clap, the feast appeared.

“I’m Peter Pettigrew,” said the boy across from Harry, reaching a hand across the rolls. Harry blinked, then shook the offered hand. 

“Harry, Harry Eades,” he replied. He looked to the boys beside him. Sure enough, the young man from his photographs sat beside Peter Pettigrew, a boyish grin on his face. 

“James Potter,” he said. “Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. This here is Sirius Black, best beater you’ll ever see, and the ever-studious Remus Lupin. But don’t be fooled by his love of books,” James waggled a finger in Remus’ direction. “He is a devilish little prankster.”

Harry laughed and reached a hand out to the youthful Lupin. “It’s good to meet you. Are you all seventh years too?”

“Yes!” replied Peter enthusiastically, before taking an enormous bite from his buttered roll.

“What our excitable friend means to say,” Sirius continued. “Is that we have indeed finally come to our last year here at Hogwarts – taking up the mantle of leaders, kings, and pranking gods –“

“Don’t forget,” Remus butted in, nudging Sirius in the ribs. “Our friend James here is now Head Boy. He’s been reformed. A model citizen. Follower of the Rules and Enforcer of Curfews.”

James nearly choked on his chicken at that description.

“Ah, come now Mo- Remus.” Sirius complained. “They can’t really expect him to… to… completely alter who he is!”

Remus laughed, but Harry felt his smile falter. Of course the Marauders would not trust a brand new stranger with their nicknames. A silly hope Harry hadn’t realized he held suddenly shattered. He was not going to be automatically welcomed into this tight knit group, or embraced as one of them. They held their secrets close – had protected them from _everyone_ for _years._ A sudden transfer student was not going to earn their trust easily.

“Ignore them,” Peter advised, as Sirius began begging James to swear fidelity to their prankster ways. “They’re always like this.” He smiled. Harry poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice, and looked at the round face of the small boy in front of him. He wasn’t sure what to think of this Peter. He looked so normal, so unlike the disheveled and twitchy coward Harry had met in the Shrieking Shack all those years ago. This youthful Pettigrew smiled at him, offered his hand, joked with his friends… He had not yet betrayed anyone. Harry tried to smooth the frown off his face. He set the puzzling thoughts aside for later.

“What brings you to Hogwarts?” Remus asked, turning his back on the goofy duo and joining their small conversation.

“I, uh, got notice that I was required to continue my education,” Harry explained. “Since I’m still seventeen.” The upcoming lies tightened the knot in his stomach. Suddenly he wasn’t so hungry. With both he and the Marauders holding so many secrets, how would they ever truly get to know each other?

“Where did you used to study?” Sirius asked, jumping back into their conversation as James finished his solemn oath to mischief. 

“My uncles taught me,” Harry explained, picking at his salad.

“What happened to them?” Peter asked. 

Remus made a vigorous shushing gesture and hissed, “Peter! You don’t just ask people what happened!”

“What?” Peter asked defensively. “Did they get a new job or something?” he inquired.

“They died.” Harry said flatly, thinking of Remus and Sirius, who had been like ‘uncles’ to him. He couldn’t look them in the eye. All sense of hunger had fled. He fiddled with his fork as their conversation stuttered to an awkward halt.

“Ah, well,” Peter muttered. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

James took a large bite of green beans, and Remus shot Harry a concerned look. 

“So.” Sirius began forcefully. “Ever played Quidditch?” 

Harry shrugged, and listened with growing amusement as James and Sirius — along with a surprising amount of input from Peter and Remus — regaled him with the highlights and wonders of the Best Sport in the World. Harry finished off a second glass of pumpkin juice, feeling the heavy liquid warm him. Perhaps, despite their secrets, it would be a year to enjoy.

The feast came to an end with a bountiful display of desserts and the inevitable discussion of classes. “What courses are you taking?” Remus inquired as he helped himself to a slice of raspberry pie. Sirius rolled his eyes, but turned his attention to Harry all the same.

“Oh, well, I’m taking the basics – Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Herbology. I’m also taking Runes with Professor Björnsson. I need to meet with the professor first, but I assume I will take Defense Against the Dark Arts as well. Dumbledore said I could take one more elective, but with all the theory I need to catch up on I think I might need the extra study time.”

James nodded. “That makes sense.We’re taking most of those too. I’m taking Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures as my electives.”

“I take Runes,” Remus offered. “As well as Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Overachiever,” coughed James.

Remus scowled playfully. “You’re supposed to support academic focus now, _Head Boy_ ,” he chided.

“Divination,” Peter chimed in. “But I dropped potions, though I’m taking Care of Magical Creatures too.”

“Muggle Studies,” Sirius said with a smirk.

“Just to piss off his mum,” Peter whispered across to Harry.

Sirius’ smirk grew and he shrugged. “Plus Magical Creatures.”

Harry reached for a square of brownie just in time. The plates shimmered once, and cleared. Dumbledore rose to his feet, and the hall quieted.

“Now that you are all fed and watered,” Dumbledore said, smiling down at his students. “I have a few brief announcements to make before you retire to your beds.” Harry nibbled on the brownie square, evaluating the staff table. There were a few faces he hadn’t seen before.

“This year we have the honor of welcoming two new professors to our midst. The respected Professor Shear suffered an unfortunate accident this summer and will be unable to resume her post as our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Arriving in her place, please welcome Professor Maaka Tao.” The professor stood beside Hagrid. Even next to the half-giant, Tao appeared large. He had broad shoulders and his thick black hair pulled back in a low ponytail. He grinned briefly towards the students and inclined his head towards Dumbledore. Furious whispers erupted throughout the hall.

“Look at those tattoos!” Sirius whistled in admiration.

“I wonder what they mean,” Peter asked. Harry merely watched the man as he took his seat. Thick black lines arched above his eyebrows and swirled around his chin. Framing his mouth and nose, the intricate tattoos made his broad face both handsome and fierce. As Dumbledore raised a hand once more, the whispers subsided.

“And replacing Professor Whitaker, who chose to retire last June, Joseph Giblingsi will take up the post as Professor of Muggle Studies.” The applause for the willowy man was much more scattered, and the whispers much darker. Harry felt his wand hand twitch reflexively. Dark looks from the Slytherin table and skeptic whispers amongst the general student body made his stomach churn. The war had indeed touched Hogwarts, he realized. He pursed his lips, and hid clenched fists beneath the table. The professor appeared to pay his mixed reception no mind, and took his seat as well.

“Finally,” Dumbledore continued with a smile. “This is your yearly reminder that magic is not to be performed in the corridors. Magical objects are also restricted to the dorms. A list of all banned objects can be found on Mr. Filch’s office door if you have any questions. And, of course, I must inform and remind you that the Forbidden Forest remains, of course, forbidden.”

He paused briefly, and then smiled brighter than ever. “With that, it is time to retire to bed. Prefects, please lead the first years to your dorms. Good night!”

As Dumbledore returned to his seat, the hall erupted into movement. “First years! This way!” called prefects from every house. 

“We’ll show you,” Remus offered. Harry had already risen, eager to avoid the crowd. He felt his shoulders tense at the boisterous noise and the chaos of students standing all at once.

He nodded jerkily to Remus. “Let’s go.” With a quick stride he left the room before students could surge towards the door. Remus followed close on his heels, the rest of Marauders tagging along behind. In the hall, Harry paused. “Where to?”

Remus gave him a look he could not decipher, before gesturing towards the marble staircase. “Gryffindor is in a tower,” he explained. “The castle can be a bit of a maze at first, so try to notice paintings and such that can help you keep track of where you are.” Remus paused to point to a staircase partway between stops. “Things can get complicated when the staircases move and the people in portraits go visit one another. I find it helpful to focus on scenery, not individuals, when it comes to using pictures for spatial reference.”

Harry nodded. “Good to know.”

“And don’t forget!” Sirius exclaimed, bounding up beside them. “There are all sorts of trick stairs to dodge!” Just in time, Harry realized he had been about to skip over one such trick step. He paused and allowed Peter to point it out first. The ever-present knot in his stomach made itself known once more. How was he going to look like a transfer student if he accidentally acted so knowledgeable about the castle’s peculiarities? With a slight frown, Harry realized he would have to avoid all short cuts for a while. He’d probably need to get lost a few times for good measure. Heck, he ought to marvel a bit too at some of Hogwarts’ showier magic. After all, he had supposedly never been in a magical school before.

Harry pushed back a frown and tuned back into James’ story.He was laughing as he warned about a second year Hufflepuff who had got caught in a trick stair in the unused fourth floor of the East Wing.“I hear it took two whole days to find her!”

“Where _is_ Gryffindor Tower?” Harry asked idly.

“We’re almost there, actually,” Remus smiled.“You’ll love it.It’s hidden by the Fat Lady’s portrait, and the common room is one of the coziest spots in the castle.”

“Not to mention, we get the best dorm room this year,” Sirius exclaimed.“Seventh years always get the best – top of the tower, two showers instead of one –“

“Finally,” muttered Peter with a grin.“Padfoot takes forever in the mornings!”

Harry couldn’t help but catch the warning look James gave Peter at his slip.Peter flushed, but Harry pretended like he didn’t notice the peculiar nickname. 

“Ah ha!” Sirius cried, bounding forward.“Welcome to Gryffindor Tower!”With a dramatic flourish of his arms he presented, “The most beautiful portrait in the school:The Fat Lady!” 

The portrait blushed and fluttered her hands at him.“Oh, you scoundrel!”

“The password changes each month,” James said. “For now, it’s _cattywampus_.” 

With a final blushing curtsy, the portrait swung forward to reveal the Common Room.

Harry found himself frozen.It was as if nothing had changed.Slowly, he stepped through the portrait hole, vaguely aware of the Marauders entering behind him.The plush chairs where he had spent so many evenings playing chess with Ron… the circle of chairs by the window where Fred and George sold their earliest inventions… the fireplace where Sirius had appeared in Fourth year… 

“Welcome to Gryffindor Common Room!” exclaimed James, stepping forward with arms outstretched.“Where only the bravest, most worthy of students come to rest, relax, and skive off class!”Harry heard his words faintly, as if listening under water.“Central to this lively hub is the Gryffindor Fireplace, where great games are played and plans are hatched.Across the way lie the study tables (best used for anything but!) and up the left staircase, at the top of this magnificent tower, await the soft, downy beds and two wonderously luxurious showers which we lowly students have worked the past six years towards!”

Harry knew he should make some sort of comment.Blinking slowly, he searched for an appropriate combination of words to offer. 

Sirius laughed, “You’ve broken him!”Remus however, looked slightly concerned. 

“Come on!” Sirius smiled, reaching out to slap him on the back.Harry flinched.“You’ve gotta see the seventh year dorms!And he’s head boy!” he exclaimed, jerking a thumb in James’ direction.“Man, I bet we get the best stuff!”

Half pushing, half dragging, the Marauders escorted Harry up the boys’ staircase.The movement seemed to shake Harry out of his shock; by the time they arrived at the top door with a large golden “7” etched into the wood, he was managing a decent grin and chuckling at their antics.

“After you, oh Lord of Pranks!” Peter cried, bowing comically towards Sirius. 

“Hey!I should go first!” exclaimed James.“I’m head boy!”

“Oh, you traitor to the Maraudering ways!” scolded Sirius, waggling his finger and looking down his nose at his affronted friend.“Only _true_ Marauders shall dorm in here!”

Catching sight of the warning glance Remus shot his friends, Harry realized he should probably ask what the ‘Marauders’ were, but he didn’t want them to stop.He smiled at the marvel of it – the Marauders, in the flesh, youthful and carefree, joking and alive… he wanted to stand in the doorway and watch them carry on forever.Unfortunately, Sirius seemed to notice Remus’ look and so, somewhat abashedly, he offered the door to James.

“After you, Lord of Hogwarts.It is only fitting the King Boy goes first!”

If James was surprised by the sudden shift, he did not show it.Raising his nose high in the air and puffing up his chest, James took four steps inside – only to suddenly trip and tumble to the floor with a yelp.

Harry raised an eyebrow as Peter slipped his wand back up his sleeve, sharing a grin with Remus.Sirius meanwhile had dissolved into howls of laughter.Clutching his stomach with one hand, and the doorframe with the other, he roared at the sight of James’ startled expression.

James’ eyes narrowed dangerously.Sirius appeared completely oblivious to the sudden appearance of James’ wand.Peter and Remus began cautiously inching away.Harry watched, certain another prank was about to be pulled, but feeling his muscles tighten all the same.A twitch a wand and Sirius’ dark locks turned brilliant chartreuse.It clashed terribly with the warm pink of his laughing face.

At the outburst of giggles from the peanut gallery, Sirius seemed to take stock of the situation.Lifting his head, he caught sight of his colorful hair.A smirk settled upon his face as he turned dramatically towards James: “It’s on.”

And with that, they lunged for their beds.Pillows in hand, the battle began.From the doorway, Peter leapt into the fray, eagerly joining the chaotic revelry.Remus hovered in the hall beside Harry.“They are not… _always_ like this,” Remus offered, unconvincingly.

Harry snorted.He glanced at Remus who was struggling to contain his own grin.“The Head Boy,” Harry muttered, grinning.

“The Head Boy,” Remus agreed, trying to sound disproving.Then Remus snorted, and they too dissolved into laughter.

As the feathers settled, and they regained their breath, Harry couldn’t help but marvel at it all: the Marauders alive and joyful; the castle standing and whole; Harry moving into the dorms once again.He surveyed the room.As with the Marauders, he had yet to explore the seventh year dorm room (yet, unlike the Marauders, he had not known it was supposed to be such a big deal.He rather suspected its superiority was another wild fabrication of theirs). 

It was a large, round room, just as all his other dorm rooms had been.Four beds sat beneath the curved wall of windows, and the last sat between the bathroom and the door.It appeared that Hogwarts had chosen to give that one to Harry.Slowly, Harry walked over to the trunk at the foot of his bed.Around him, the Marauders began opening their own trunks, searching for their decorations and personal effects.Remus had already found a chocolate bar hidden by his Mum with a small note he’d already tucked back his trunk.James was quick to hang Quidditch posters around his bed, while Sirius’ wall was quickly developing a muggle-punk aesthetic.Harry knelt before his trunk, gently reaching out a hand to touch the worn handle.He ran a thumb over the recently scarred wood where earlier had been carved the name _Ronald Weasley._

Peter levitated bundle of colorful socks from his trunk to the wardrobe, followed by a set of flapping robes.Harry set his open palm on the complicated locking rune Hermione had carved into their trunks. _“Að eilífu,”_ he whispered.With a faint ‘click!’ it opened and he looked inside. 

Harry had packed little more than the essentials.Seated so openly by his bed, he dared not risk anything personal being locked within.The second-hand robes he’d purchased two days ago, and a few of his older robes that matched the current styles, were folded carefully amongst his schoolbooks and potions ingredients.Hermione’s old cauldron was clean and ready, currently filled with parchment and quills.Belatedly, he realized he ought to have found something personal to include as well.As he levitated his robes and clothes into his wardrobe, he realized just how empty his trunk appeared.He had left everything else safely stored in the beaded bag still shrunken and worn around his neck.Reaching for his transfiguration book, he kicked off his shoes and hopped onto the bed.

“Uh, Harry?” Peter stood in the middle of his bed, one hand raised high above his head, fixing something to the top of his bed hangings.Harry raised an eyebrow and he continued.“Is that, uh, all you have?”

Harry shrugged, suddenly aware every eye had turned to evaluate his living space.“I’m just… not much for decoration,” he lied.

“Is that a … book!” cried Sirius suddenly, ending the awkward pause.

Harry pursed his lips.“I’m a bit behind,” he admitted quietly.Remus nodded sympathetically.

“Hogwarts must be a lot different than private tutoring,” he said.“Don’t worry though!I’d be more than willing to help you out with stuff - if you want.And (despite appearances) those two are the top transfiguration students in all of Hogwarts!”James ran a hand through his hair and grinned.

“Phft,” Sirius maintained with a playful scowl.“Studying before term even starts. Bah humbug!”

“But – what of the First Night Tradition?” Peter asked, wide-eyed.Harry didn’t miss the glances shot his way, nor the way their eyes lit up at some secret, shared knowledge.

“Don’t mind me,” Harry said.“It’s been a long day.I think I’m going to shower and read.It’s gonna be an early night for me.”He tried not to notice the relieved expressions that met his announcement.

“Well, we’re headed down to the common room – see you in a bit.”With that, the boys bounded off their beds, a flash of silvery fabric peeking out of James’ book bag.As the door fell shut behind them and silence settled over the room, Harry let out a long, slow sigh. 

“Welcome back, Harry,” he whispered to himself.“Welcome back to Hogwarts.”

He set his transfiguration text on the bedside table.Picking up his toothbrush and sleeping clothes, he decided to do as he’d mentioned and head to the showers.The bathroom revealed two showers, a sink, and a stall with a urinal beside it.While the Marauders had enthused about the dual showers, Harry couldn’t help but frown. 

Prior years had offered a single full restroom for each room to share.While this restroom was certainly fancier with its golden-toned trim and red accent tiling, it was made for multiple boys to use at once.This would allow them to sleep in more and reduce the number of fights over the shower, but it would also force them to change in front of each other.Changing privately in the restroom each day would no longer be viewed as a normal part of showering.If he were to hide behind shower curtains or the stall door, he was sure to be seen as strangely secretive or at least slightly odd. The topic of his scars seemed increasingly inevitable.

Stripping off his uniform, Harry stepped beneath the water.Suddenly, Harry realized just how long it had been since his last true shower. On the run, cleaning charms, quick dips in streams, and occasionally sticking his head under a public bathroom’s sink had become the norm.Hygiene was treated as a necessity, not a luxury, and the goal had been cleanliness not comfort.Reaching for the soap, he tensed and relaxed his muscles, enjoying the benefits of student life.Hot water, minty soap, and a massage setting on the showerhead… Harry considered just never getting back out. 

Rather pruney and significantly more scrubbed, Harry emerged from the shower only after a good half an hour.Picking up his wand, he cast a quick drying spell and pulled on sweatpants and a green t-shirt.The steam began to clear as he brushed his teeth.In the mirror, he found a brown haired, green-eyed teen starting back at him. 

The scar across his face and down his chin was a vivid as ever, drawing eyes away from the lightning bolt for a change.The burn still peeked out from beneath his shirt collar, but in the t-shirt a few other scars made their presence known.Nicks and slices here and there, small scars of varying shades of pink littered his arms, but the one that stood out began on his outer forearm and slid all the way past his elbow, up his bicep, and disappeared towards his shoulder.A trail of pink dots trailed each side of it, marking muggle staples that had held it closed.It cleaved the white scar from the basilisk fang clear in two.Harry rubbed it roughly as he thought.

It was one that would probably draw questions.He had considered wearing long sleeves but with the shower situation there really was no point.He needed a good cover story, but nothing seemed to fit. 

Rinsing his mouth, Harry splashed water on his face and stared at the reflection in the mirror.From the moment he’d entered the wizarding world, he’d been told _you look just like your father._ But now he just couldn’t see the resemblance.Sure his hair was a dozen shades lighter, but his face was thinner, paler, worn.There were bag etched permanently under his eyes, and vivid scars twisting across his skin.He was thinner; his clothes were baggier and far more threadbare than James’.He looked more closely – trying to match the curve of his nose, the edge of his cheekbone, the messy nest of his hair to that of his fathers.He turned away from the mirror.He wasn’t allowed to look like James now anyways.Shoving his clothes into the hamper, he walked back to bed.

He sat down and pulled the curtains closed.Lying on his back, he tried to relax enough to sleep.It was only nine o’ clock but he’d hardly slept for days and the emotional roller coaster of the evening left him utterly exhausted.But lying in bed, enclosed by thick red curtains, he felt vulnerable in a way he never had at Hogwarts. Sliding under the covers, he rested his fingertips on his wand holstered to his wrist.His ears strained for sounds. 

Harry sat back up.This was useless.He knew rationally that he should be safe there.It was the Marauders.Aside from pranks, they wouldn’t hurt him.But he couldn’t make his body calm down.Getting out of bed, Harry got out his knife and began his warding routine just as he had every night before sleeping for the past year.On each bedpost he carved runes of protection, both to keep others out and alert him to their approach.Hesitantly, he decided to forego the runes of illusion.While his psyche craved the comfort of the full warding ritual, he knew it would be a bit strange if his bed disappeared or appeared to always be open and empty.With protective wards complete, he stepped inside the bed, and carved eight silencing runes – hiding internal noises while leaving external sounds unhampered.

Only once the runes burned blue and seared themselves into the bedposts did he finally feel the tension leave his back.Lying back down, Harry closed his curtains with a small binding charm and slipped under the covers.He felt exhaustion settle in his bones, laying over him like a weighted blanket.Closing his eyes, he allowed sleep to take him.


End file.
